


About Lovers and Broken Hearts

by glassmotion



Category: Placebo
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 09:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassmotion/pseuds/glassmotion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hewitt left the band and a new young, bright kid got in. This was my dramatic way of imagining what happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	About Lovers and Broken Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Some parts of this story are memories of something that happened in the past. To make it simple, I just wrote [PAST] so you'll know.

Brian tugged on the phone chord a little nervously. “So,” he said in that sing-song tone he used when he was either hesitant or seducing someone. “We closed the deal with Forrest.”  
  
A few silent seconds followed, and that was definitely not much of a good sign. “Oh,” the voice on the other end of the line finally came. “Fantastic,” Steve said, his tone telling on him and showing that he didn’t think that it was fantastic at all.  
  
“Yeah.” Brian watched his own foot moving anxiously under his sheets, cigarettes ashes littering them all over. Brian had been kind of drunk of the past few hours, which made his motor skills of finding the ashtray/managing to keep the ashtray facing up almost non-existing. “He uh, we had a little rehearsal and he… well, you know him, he’s pretty good.”  
  
A quite ironic chuckle; cynical in disbelief. “Oh yeah,  _very_  good. How old is he again? Is he even legal, Brian?”  
  
“Fuck you,” Brian snapped, spilling a bit of his whiskey onto his bare chest. He  _kne_ w something like that would happen - that’s why he needed a few drinks before making the call to announce the big news. Steve was always so fucking full of himself. “You’re the one who left us, don’t get a bitch fit over the kid just because he took your spot. We need him and he’s good enough.”  
  
“Yeah I bet he is,” Hewitt snarled. “So he had to do Nick too, or you and Stef only?”  
  
Brian scowled and shook his head. He just wanted to slap Steve on the face and tell him to quit being so pathetic. “Are you a teenage girl by any chance? What’s wrong with you, for fuck’s sake?” - Steve started a reply, but Brian interrupted him. “We agreed that it was better for you to leave if you wanted, because you did, so don’t act like we cheated on you.”  
  
“Uhm.” Another few seconds of silence, in which Brian took another sip of his drink, waiting for another rude response. “Just didn’t think you’d replace me while my stool was still warm.”  
  
“We can’t compose without a drummer and you know that damn well!” Brian almost shouted, not wanting to play games. “Don’t be a drama queen and let the band move on, we’re just getting back on our feet.”  
  
“Well good for you, Brian, congratulations. I hope you’re all really fucking happy together.”  
  
“Why, thank you very much,” Brian replied, using as much irony as his former bandmate.   
  
“But for what is worth, if you didn’t test his head skills, you should. He’s quite the twink.” And that was the last thing Brian heard before the dull sound of the dead line.   
  
He exhaled sharply a few times, his blue eyes set on the wall in front of him. God, he just wanted to punch Steve, to shove him against the wall and yell at him, to kick him in the nuts, to scratch his chest, to kiss him furiously and be pounded against the mattress by him, being held by his huge strong drummer hands.   
  
Brian put the phone back on his nightstand, dropped his glass onto the floor and grabbed the bottle.  _Maybe I will_ , he thought.  _Maybe I will._  
  
*  
  
Granted, he had a damn great smile.  
  
The thing about Steve Forrest is that he’s just so young. Both Brian and Stefan were in their mid-thirties, already used to the whole process, to the fame, to the work and reward scheme. They were scarred and almost tired of the whole thing. But Forrest; ah. Forrest was different.  
  
He was so joyful all the time. He came into the studio with the energy of a hyperactive child, he would take advice and tips with an attentive expression on his face, he would do an amazing freaking job for a kid and he’d cheer everyone up anytime. When someone was grumpy, he’d make a subtle joke and get them laughing. When someone was sad, he’d offer his shoulder and ears or just a warm hug. When someone was pissed, he’d let them vent and get the anger out of their system so they would feel better.  
  
The crew named him Sunshine. Brian just called him Stevie.  
  
At first, Brian had only seen him as this rather good-looking guy from Evaline. The kid that drank with them, opened for them, and would just be going from one place to another all the time. He joined the band in dark times, when Brian’s mind was still on the fact that they had been forsaken by their drummer, their friend and whatnot. He was still a little cathartic, trying to sink in that after all those years, after all they had been through, Steve had abandoned him just like that.   
  
They even had the same name.  
  
But after that explosive phone call, things had been changing a bit.  
  
Stevie wasn’t a kid, but near Brian he was. And Brian really didn’t like to think he was old. He was always beautiful, sexy, sensual - he knew it, used it and enjoyed it. He had power on people. He could have anyone he wanted. And he was getting _old_.   
  
How great is it to have a barely legal drummer in your band, eh? To keep reminding you that he’s the one to stare at now. He’s the center of attention, the little baby brother getting all the mom’s care and making his older siblings jealous. Stef didn’t really give a damn, but Brian was a little apprehensive. He was losing his mojo.   
  
And the worst thing is, he couldn’t even be mad at Stevie for that. The kid was just too bloody cute. He was blond, for starters - really, really blond, as if the sun was shining above his head all the time. He had a toned body with colorful tattoos that made everyone want to lick his stomach and his chest and his arms - he’d walk around topless like it was nothing all the time, like he was five years old and could run naked through the house. He had this soft-talking thing, so sweet, a bit feminine, and that happy giggle that warmed people’s hearts or something romantically cliché like that.   
  
Sunshine.   
  
“You might kill him with all that staring,” Stefan said suddenly, taking Brian out of his deep sea of thoughts. “Creep,” he added with a smirk, picking up the notebook from Brian’s hands and sitting next to him on the couch.  
  
Brian felt himself blushing - how long had it been since he last blushed in embarrassment? “Was I staring at him?” He asked, turning his head to face Stef, for once.  
  
Stef nodded. “For the past twenty minutes. This is good, though,” he said, reading the words Brian had written for some lyrics.   
  
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” He lit up a cigarette and leaned back, staring at the studio’s ceiling with a lost expression. “This is good, right?”  
  
“What’s good?” Stef responded, never taking his eyes off the notebook, flipping through the pages.  
  
Brian sighed. “Us. The band, with Forrest. He’s good, right? Good drummer.”  
  
“Look, I don’t know what is wrong with you, but deal with it and make it stop.” He frowned at some words, failing to understand Brian’s drunk handwriting.  
  
“It’s just - I don’t know, this was all just so quick. I need someone to warn me if I’m losing my mind, if I ever do, and that someone has to be you.” He reached out for Stefan’s thigh, resting his hand in there. “He’s good, right?”  
  
Stefan put the notebook down and sat up straight, turning to face Brian. “Of course he’s good, he got in. Why are you saying that?”  
  
Another exasperated sigh and Brian too sat up straight, flicking his cigarette. “Steve suggested he only got in because of… well, you know.” He looked at Forrest, who was still inside the recording space, sitting on his stool, reading his parts. “He is, alright, but he’s a good musician.”  
  
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Stef whined in that drag-queen tone he used sometimes. “Are you still not over that?”  
  
“Will you shut up about it?”  
  
Stefan scoffed and shook his head. “That’s what you get, mister, for messing around with everything that moves. Get the fuck over it already. Sunshine is fine.” He got up and took Brian’s cigarette. “Let’s get to work, these lyrics need a melody.”  
  
*  
  
  
With the passing of a few days, Brian started to get his grip back. He’d show up to the studio, they’d get work done, they’d go out to eat and have a few drinks, and it almost felt like the good old days. Stevie was, indeed, a sweetheart. He wasn’t cocky (at least not yet), he was fun to be around and he was very responsible - to the point of refusing a second beer because he had to finish studying his parts for the old songs.  
  
It was a rainy morning that made Brian upset, then pissed, and then speechless.  
  
It’s really no surprise to rain in London, but Brian had been growing his hair and that was an issue. Ever since a few months before he talked to a fan, he had been growing his hair. He was in Paris when he met this girl at a café. She, of course, was French, speaking French, and Brian really likes to speak French. So he was talking and talking when she interrupted him and said he looked so much better in his Nancy Boy days.  
  
So Brian started to grow his hair back.  
  
He had been quite happy with it, especially enjoying to have it grabbed and pulled during sex when she was feeling feisty. But the rain was making Brian’s hair sad. He had to cross the street and run to the studio building, less than a minute under the rain, a few nasty seconds that screwed up his entire hairdo.   
  
When he opened the door of his destination, everyone turned around to look at him and, who’d ever said, Brian Molko got very self-conscious.   
  
“Hi, you!” Stevie greeted, coming up to Brian. There were at least ten people in there, as if they all came to witness Bad Hair Day: Armageddon.   
  
Brian went to the corner of the room, where there was a table for them to put their bags and everything else. “Hey,” he said weekly, quickly putting down his bag and running his fingers through his hair.  _Get down, get down, don’t get all curly ass on me, fucker._  
  
“You okay?” Sunshine asked, his smile fading away a bit and going back to that shy smirk. He was dressed in black, plain white simple black long-sleeved sweater, and a beanie on his head.  _A beanie_. With golden locks escaping from under the beanie, framing his angel face and circling around his ears.  
  
“Yeah, fine,” Brian answered quickly, still trying to straighten down his hair. “Just this bloody rain.”  
  
“Oh, right,” he smiled again, glaring at Brian’s hair. “It looks just fine to me.”  
  
Brian stopped moving. “Shit. Is it that obvious?”  
  
“Not at all, actually,” Stevie offered, shrugging slightly. “I think you look amazing all the time. But if you want, you can have this,” he said, taking the beanie off his head and handing it to Brian.   
  
“Oh. Thanks, I’ll take that.” He grabbed the beanie just as he caught sight of Stefan, who was in the other side of the room, smirking like a maniac. Brian ignored him. “Why are all these people here so early?”  
  
“David announced is throwing me a party!” he answered instantly, with one of those huge smiles of his. “Like, an official welcome to the band?”  
  
“That’s great!” Brian finally smiled back, putting the beanie on his head. “We are in desperate need for a party, don’t you think?”  
  
“I don’t even know,” he said with a sigh, looking down for a moment; “I just feel so special.”  
  
Brian stopped moving for a second and just stared at the boy, his mouth kinda hanging open, still trying to process that Stevie said he  _felt so special._  
  
“Anyway, I have to warm up,” the boy continued. “Wait, here.” He raised his hands to Brian’s head, where he fixed the beanie, put a strand of his hair behind his ear and ran a finger along his jawline. And he smiled. “Gorgeous.” And then Stevie walked back to the other people, cracking his fingers.  
  
Stefan slowly came to Brian, stopping by the table with him. He crossed his arms, but the shorter man didn’t see. “You’re doing it again,” Stef warned.   
  
Brian raised his head slightly and grinned, never taking his eyes off Forrest. “Yes sir I am.”   
  
*  
  
It sucked, really, and acting like a heartless slut is way easier than actually being one. Of course, it’s not like Brian was ever Mother fucking Teresa, but he had feelings. He was, though, very used to hiding or suppressing his feelings when it was convenient, so much it was almost pathological. But it was getting a little bit harder lately.  
  
Sitting on his couch with a bowl of soup, Brian wondered. He hadn’t really asked Steve how he was doing before telling him about Forrest, the day he made the phone call. Before that call, he hadn’t spoken to Steve ever since that stormy day ages ago, when they were still on tour, when everything fell apart, words were thrown and used as weapons and Brian’s chest actually hurt like a bitch for what he thought it was a broken heart, in so,  _so many ways_.   
  
He hadn’t asked Steve where he was. How was he doing. How was his health. How was his soul. If he had gotten arrested or shoved into rehab within that painful period they’d been apart.   
  
It wasn’t Brian’s burden to carry, it wasn’t his damn fault Steve knew no such thing as limits. He had reached the point where he thought he was God and there were no boundaries to his wills. But there were boundaries, built mainly by the tremendous disrespect that his band - his family - was having to put up with.  
  
And despite everything that happened, all the anger Brian had been feeling all this time, all the outrageous wrath swelling up inside his guts, he actually felt guilty. He wasn’t sure what he was guilty about. He knew they had taken the right decision. He didn’t regret it. He knew that it was either Steve out of Placebo or Placebo out of the planet. And yet, he felt like he should’ve done more, even knowing that Steve kept denying he was wrong and refusing help, Brian just couldn’t let it go.  
  
When it happened, he bitched about it for weeks. Mourned about it for months. And he had been hiding his thoughts and feelings ever since he decided to shut up about it, shoving it in the dark basement of his mind, way far in the back of his head where no one could ever find it.  
  
That was working quite well until recently. Because yeah, they needed a drummer, so they chose this completely random kid based on his skills, and then it seemed to work, they could work together, that should be nice. And it was nice until it started being too nice and Brian caught himself staring at the boy like a pedo creeper and wondering how he would feel, how he would taste, how he would  _sound_  if Brian ever traced a line with his tongue through his neck…  
  
It was just too much for him to handle, and ignoring it wasn’t working so well either. It was like a dead fish hidden in his wardrobe, rotten, the stink becoming worse and more unbearable by the day. For a second, Brian longed the days where he would just get shitfaced the entire week, way too stoned out of his skull to care. He shooed that thought away.  
  
Something suddenly fell heavily on his lap, forcing him to drop the bowl of soup - from each he had been eating without even noticing. “Fuck - Cody!” He yelled, trying to lift his son so he wouldn’t land with his face on the soup that spilled onto the couch.   
  
“Lift me - up!” Cody giggled, stretching his arms. “Capitan Cody, to infinity and beyond!”  
  
Brian tried and tried to hold the boy up and set him to the ground, but the kid kept his arms stretched, a finger dangerously close to Brian’s eyes, and was just so goddamn  _heavy._ When did he stop being a baby again? “Get off,” Brian said harshly, trying to move his crotch away from his son’s knee. “Cody, c’mon, not now!”  
  
“Make me fly, daddy!”  
  
“Cody, darling, your dad is eating,” Helena’s voice came, soft and motherly, from the doorframe in the corner of the room. “Let him dine and you’ll play later.”  
  
The little boy clicked his tong. “O-kay,” he mumbled, grumpy, and got off his dad’s lap (hitting his crotch with a knee, like predicted). He ran off the living room, kicking a ball onto the wall as he passed.   
  
“How do you do that?” Brian asked, a pained expression on his face. He leaned back on the couch and spread his legs, resting his hand softly on his pants, like he had some healing power on himself to cure the fact that his own kid didn’t seem to like the idea of a sibling and kept hitting him there all the time - with a foot, a knee, a soccer ball, a bike and whatnot.   
  
“Girl power,” she said, coming to sit on the arm of the sofa. She put a hand over Brian’s forehead. “You okay?”  
  
“Peachy.” He leaned into her touch, and she dropped her hand to cup his cheek.  
  
“You don’t look peachy, mister,” she said in a dull tone; not in pity, not upset, just declaring something obvious. “So uptight.”  
  
“Yeah well, I’m not exactly Madonna in a sex shop, but I’m fine,” he answered, moody, sitting up while looking for the dropped bowl - his three thousand bucks leather fucking couch was probably ruined for life. It’d smell like a cat lady high-on-soup house forever.  
  
Helena just watched him fumble around the cushions for the spoon. She rested her elbow on the back of the couch, her head on her hand, observing Brian with a slight smile on the corner of her lips. He finally found the spoon and dropped it in the bowl, making a noise a bit too sharp. “What is it, woman?” He asked, staring back at her.  
  
She frowned in a cartoonish kind of way, scrunching up her lips for a second. “Tell me something. How long has it been since you’ve been fucked?”  
  
“Excuse me?”   
  
She shrugged, “just asking.”  
  
Brian tilted his head to the side and put a hand on his hip. “Were you on something last night? We-”  
  
“I’m not talking about that,” she interrupted him and stood up, still grinning. “You know what I mean.”  
  
They just stared at each other for a while, until Brian finally said, “What the fuck.”  
  
She sighed in that rather patronizing way that he hated, but deep down felt like he deserved it. “I’m just saying,” she started, taking the bowl off his hand, “we can’t turn back time.” She went walking into the kitchen, and Brian didn’t turn around to look at her. “And you’re just all moody on my ass lately,” she called, still walking away, “and I can’t give you what you need!”  
  
Brian just stood there, motionless, staring at his ruined sofa for a few good minutes. A small silhouette showed up by him and he looked to his side, only to find Cody staring at him, trying to restrain a smile. “Daddy,” he giggled, “you have soup on your hair.”

*

 [PAST]  
  
  
It had been a Tuesday night.  
  
Brian was lying awake on his bunk. The last concert had ended a few hours ago and they were already moving, going from one to another country, he wasn’t sure exactly, but he knew it was Eastern Europe.   
  
He couldn’t sleep.  
  
He wished he had a window so he could see the sky. He wished he’d see a shooting star so he could actually wish on something.  
  
He did not dare to move.  
  
He didn’t get up because he was waiting. For the past few weeks, every night they slept on the bus, something happened. Almost exactly the same thing: his curtain would be pulled. It was Steve, he knew, though he always slept facing the wall and never really saw him.   
  
The metal rings that held the curtain up would make the slightest noises, the cooler air would invade Brian’s space and he’d know Steve was there. Brian tried to keep his breathing still, not give in that he was awake, and it usually worked. Steve was either really too tired or too drunk or too stoned to notice anyway.   
  
The only difference was in Steve’s behavior after he exposed Brian. Some nights, he would touch Brian’s hand or shoulder or the back of his neck. Some other nights, he’d mumble something to himself, in a quick pace, too low for Brian to understand but it sounded kind of like a prayer. Those were the nights he wouldn’t take long before closing them up again. But some nights - and those were Brian’s favorites -, Steve would just watch him sleep, or at least he thought so, and twice he sang Brian a lullaby. He probably didn’t notice it at first, because when he did, he would usually stop very quickly go away like he was angry at himself.   
  
And every night that happened, Brian would wait until Steve settled down on his own bunk, wait a few more minutes, and then he’d desperately touch himself. He just couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like when he usually did it, dirty and sexual and deliciously shameless. Brian was ashamed of it, of himself, of himself before God if He ever existed, but it was stronger than him and he just  _needed_  it.   
  
That night, though, Steve was taking a lot longer than usual. They had been on the bus for what it seemed like a whole day, and Brian was waiting, waiting,  _waiting_  until his skin was tingly and his forehead was sweaty and he was feeling lonely and afraid of the dark. It was like Steve became his mother, whose goodnight kiss he could never sleep without.   
  
And yet, Brian waited a ton more, until he decided Steve wasn’t coming. The prick wasn’t coming, and that felt like a betrayal, like Brian had made him promise that he would come every night, stare at him forever and pretend like nothing happened the next day. He wasn’t coming and Brian could not sleep.  
  
He suddenly decided to get out of his bunk for something, he wasn’t sure what, maybe water or a piss or just stare out the window. Maybe he could find his shooting star, make a wish upon it, a wish that involved Steve spooning him on his smelly messy bunk.  
  
Brian turned away from the wall of the bus, supporting himself with his elbow and pulled his curtain in a fast single swing. His heart almost stopped because Steve was right there, standing like a motherfucking ghost that scared Brian shitless like a kickass hardcore horror movie. “Jesus fuck,” Brian cursed under his breath, taking his hand to his chest. “What the hell, Steve.”  
  
The look on Steve’s dark eyes was something Brian had never seen on him before. That blank staring, eyebrows raised, mouth pressed on a thin line - frozen like an ice statue, incapable of saying a single word to explain himself. He had been caught in the act, Brian realized, failing miserably with coming up with an excuse. A part of Brian’s mind yelled  _don’t say a word, let him be, let him be_ , but the other part, the arrogant curious and purely stupid part, forced Brian so say, “So? What are you doing?”  
  
The frightened expression on Steve’s face slowly melted into a grin, and he let out a hiss that turned into a chuckle or something. “I’m walking on the fucking bus, what does it seem like I’m doing?” He said like he was declaring the oh-so obvious, and then he walked into the kitchen space. “Bloody Brian,” he mumbled, opening the mini-fridge.   
  
Brian climbed out of his bunk (which was always curious to watch due to his small stature), following Steve into the kitchen. “You weren’t walking,” he pressured in a low tone so he wouldn’t wake up the others. “You were staring at my bunk.”  
  
Steve’s glare lingered on an empty spot for a fraction of a second, but he disguised it well. “Oh you know,” he started, opening a can of beer. He took a sip and leaned against the stove they never used. “Your curtain is just so fucking pretty.”   
  
Brian himself leaned against the frame of the door, his arms crossed. He didn’t even care that his fancy haircut was all messed up from the pillow. And Brian always,  _always_  cared about his hair. His mind was just flooded with the situation, the  _opportunity_  he had at hand, to finally confront Steve and get that all sorted out. Because having to pretend that there was no tension between them was pretty hard - that was the huge problem about faking that he didn’t know about Steve’s weirdo session on his bunk every night.  
  
“Don’t lie,” Brian said in a tired voice. “Just tell me why.”  
  
Steve scoffed. “Why what? Go back to bed-”  
  
“What, so you can watch me while I sleep?” Brian cut in, still holding down his tone. Steve’s attitude left his body immediately, sliding down his body and leaving his toes tingling. “Yeah, Steve, I know about that,” he continued, taking a couple steps forward. “Can you tell me what the bloody hell is that all about?”  
  
“Fuck off,” Steve said dully, taking the can up to his lips in a frantic need to occupy his mouth with something other than the words he didn’t have.   
  
“Oh, so mature,” Brian snarled in an angry whisper. “I just wanna know why is it that you do it.”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Steve shouted, turning around as his face turned red - from anger or embarrassment, or both, neither of them was really sure.  
  
“Keep your voice, down, motherfucker,” Brian said, coming closer.  
  
“Oh fuck you!” Steve said even louder, throwing the can angrily in the sink - the remaining beer was launched off to the window, some of it also landing on Steve’s dark t-shirt. “Get the fuck off my back, Brian!”  
  
“Shut up!” some sleepy voice said from the bunk space, but none of them really registered.   
  
“No I will not,” Brian said firmly, his voice still low but deathly. “You think that’s it? You can go all creeper on my ass every night and not explain yourself for it? What, is this Amsterdam now, do I look like a whore in a glass that you can watch when you please?”  
  
Steve turned around suddenly, and his face was not even red anymore, it was purple. “Get the fuck outta my face, Brian, fuck off” he shouted again, his body assuming that posture he took hen he was about to pick a fight at a bar.   
  
Brian raised his eyebrows and arms. “Oh my fucking God,” he said with the most ironic voice he could make, smiling at the ceiling for a moment, then staring back at his mate, “holy fucking fuckness, do you even now another word?” - When Steve just looked blankly at him for a moment, Brian continued. “Just tell me, do you get off on it?”  
  
Steve’s hands abruptly reached forward and got a grip of Brian’s white shirt, and the smaller man was suddenly shoved against the counter, so strong he would so certainly have a bruise on his back. Brian hissed in pain and looked at Steve, who seemed to be in an internal struggle with himself about god knows what. He was panting, and so was Brian, and they were angry and scared and horny and just pining for each other.   
  
In a quick move, Brian walked forward and landed his hands heavily on Steve’s chest, pushing him backwards for a few steps, making his back collide with the bus wall, and in a fraction of a second they were kissing furiously. The bus suddenly seemed so quiet, and the two of them were all there was, all tongues and spit and teeth and passion in anger and painful desperation.  
  
It didn’t last long, though, once Steve broke the kiss - the hands that held Brian’s hips so tight suddenly pushed him away. Brian just looked up at him, with his beautiful huge uneven eyes, his hands still on the other man’s chest.   
  
“I’m not Stefan,” Steve said, using a low tone for the first time. He had to look away from Brian - he just couldn’t handle his honest, awaiting glare. “Go mess around with someone else.”  
  
Brian just stood there for a moment, his eyes wondering through all of Steve’s face before he seemed to click. “Oh.” He retrieved his hands and took a step back, Steve’s fingertips lasting on his waist until he was out of reach. “But I thought-”  
  
“Well you thought wrong.”  
  
Brian nodded slowly and ran his tongue over his teeth - right where Steve’s tongue had just fucking been. “I see.” He crossed his arms and lifted his chin - he would not be the one begging in there. “Fine.”  
  
His lack of resistance caught Steve off guard, and he took a moment to say anything. “Don’t say a word about this to-”  
  
“I won’t.”  
  
Steve breathed out sharply. “This is not happening again.”  
  
“It isn’t.”  
  
For another moment, Steve looked at him, looking like he was not supposed to but like it was the very last time he’d ever see Brian. He left the kitchen without another word.  
  
Brian stood there for a few more minutes, still being able to feel the burn of the other man’s touch, the taste of his skin, the beat of his heart. It hurt. It hurt like hell, it hurt all over, in a familiar way he was getting so sick of. He had suck a bad luck with this, he always had. He was lucky in getting laid, but in relationships he was a train wrack. And this was not any relationship - it wasn’t even a relationship at all. It was Steve. That was a whole ‘nother level, just like the pain.  
  
He slowly made his way back to the bunks space, knowing that Steve would be three feet away from him, behind the dark red curtain. When Brian reached his spot, the bottom curtain was pulled and Stef’s face showed up. “You wanna talk about it?” he asked silently, only his mouth moving. Of course, he had heard the whole thing - he was Stefan, after all, and his queen ears were like a freaking satellite.   
  
Brian shook his head and mouthed “no,” so Stef just nodded briefly and put his head back on the pillow. Brian set his right foot to the tip of Stef’s bunk, and he was just about to climb to his own when he changed his mind. He still didn’t want to talk about it, but he sure as hell didn’t want to be alone. And he knew that, whatever he ever needed, anytime, anywhere, the one person he could count on was right there.  
  
He put his foot back down and bent forward, looking at Stefan, who immediately dragged his body closer to the wall. Brian climbed in with him, his back pressed against Stef’s skinny chest in the narrow space, a long arm embracing Brian’s petit body. There was nothing sexual between them in that very moment, like it had been so many times before when they fucked each other madly for hours and passed out happily afterwards. This time, like a couple others, Stef just stood there, his cheek against Brian’s neck, caressing his hand with a thumb. “I’m sorry,” was all he said.  
  
Brian kind of nodded, a tear running down his face in the dark. “Not gonna happen again,” he whispered, and Stefan held him closer and tighter, just like Brian needed.  
  
He was wrong, though. It was totally going to happen again. It was the beginning of the end.  
  
[/PAST]  
  
*  
  
“You have  _got_  to stop talking about him like he’s a fine horse you just bought,” Nick said to Brian, close to his ear.  
  
Brian snorted. “I’m not into horses.”   
  
“You get the point,” Nick said, and then went silent.  
  
They were at David’s house. David being the producer for the new record, and his house was pretty damn awesome. That room seemed to have been built for parties, way too wide to be a living room, but with a bar and sofas and coffee tables and something like a dancefloor. Music was pumping through their bodies, a lot of people Brian knew around, and a lot of people he had no idea who they were. He was hanging out at the bar with some people, whilst Stefan was off dancing or making out somewhere, and Steve was across the room.  
  
The boy was sitting on a couch - not properly sitting, more like sinking into it -, lots of people around him, asking questions, congratulating him and boring the kid to death. At first, he was even happy about it, saying how amazing it was to be a part of that band, how lucky he felt, how well they had been treating him. But Jesus himself would get fed up with that conversation after an hour and a half. So Steve was trying to blend into the white couch, his arms crossed like an eight year old.  
  
“Hey, Sunshine!” Brian called very loudly so his voice would be heard above the music. Steve looked up at him and smiled, the look on his face saying  _thank fuck someone took me out of here_. He excused himself briefly and came to Brian, almost running and smiling widely.   
  
“Oh God, thank you,” he said when he arrived, putting his elbows on the counter and dropping his face on his hands.   
  
“Anytime,” Brian said in a sing-song voice, landing a hand in between Stevie’s shoulder blades. “You okay?”  
  
“Yeah, great,” he answered, straightening his body and facing Brian. “You called…?”  
  
“I did.” He took another sip of his bourbon.  
  
The boy stared at him silently for about three seconds, eyebrows raised. “Why did you call?”  
  
“Because I can,” Brian responded in a  _duh_  tone, making Stevie laugh, “C’mon, have a drink with me.”  
  
Stevie sat his cute butt on the stool next to Brian and ordered a beer. Nick gave them a disapproving look before leaving to the porch, and Brian just grinned in a superior arrogant charming Brian Molko kind of way.   
  
“So,” the older man said lazily, his long hair falling over his face. His bright eyes showed that he had already taken a few good drinks. “How do you like your party?”  
  
“It’s okay,” the boy said, sighing a bit. “I mean, the party is awesome, I just… I don’t think I’m in a party mood today, maybe?”  
  
“Why wouldn’t you be?” Brian watched him play with the handle of his tall cup. “It was all sunny in here today, just the way you like it.”  
  
“Yeah I know.” He stared at the coaster under his sweaty beer. “Don’t get me wrong, you know, but I guess I just miss home. My friends, you see? I’m way too far away from home.”  
  
Brian didn’t really have a home anymore, always going from place to place, but he sure remembered the feeling. “That changes,” he said wisely. He immediately regretted it. He sounded like an old experienced person. Fuck that.  
  
Stevie nodded, took a sip of his drink and looked back at Brian. “Just don’t leave alone with them anymore?”  
  
“Of course not, baby!” Brian smiled widely and reached out a hand. “You are _all mine tonight_.”  
  
Steve took Brian’s hand and stepped down his stool. Brian made the boy turn around before bringing him close, lacing his arm around Stevie’s toned torso, feeling the boy’s hand resting above his own. Steve leaned against Brian’s body, his smell invading the other man’s system in a second. Brian inhaled deeply, allowing himself to bury his face in the curve of the boy’s neck.   
  
“Mmm,” said Brian, “you smell good.”  
  
Sunshine shivered visibly, secretly smiling to the ceiling. “Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Molko?”   
  
Brian smiled against the boy’s skin. “Would you want me to?”  
  
“Maybe,” the response came without hesitation.  
  
“Then maybe I am.”   
  
“Oh there you are!” came a voice Brian did not recognize, but Stevie apparently did - he lifted his head to look, and then grunted.  
  
“Hey,” he said to what Brian found out to be a girl. She had that California Barbie stereotype, long bleached flat hair with thin lips and strong jaw. She was pretty, but not by Brian’s standards. She just looked dull, shallow and ordinary. And way too tanned. But that dull shallow ordinary girl came up to Stevie and kissed his mouth.  
  
It wasn’t much more than a peck, but the thing was Brian’s chin was still on Steve’s shoulder, his arm still around his middle, and they were so close. And then that stupid plastic doll just comes along and kisses Sunshine’s lips? Motherfucking no, Brian thought, but did not say a word. The bitter taste of jealousy invaded his mouth.  
  
“Oh my gosh, you should have seen this!” She said with her squeaky voice. “There was this guy dancing outside, and he was like, totally queer,” she laughed, “and he is so clumsy, and people were like, hell yeah, this is totally awesome,” she made a sign with her fingers, “but it was like _so ridiculous_ , oh my gosh, I was like, so ashamed, this party is so funny. He must be a famous drag or whatever, he totally sucks, and people like suck up to famous people, so yeah.”  
  
“Well that my dear,” said Brian, still not letting go of Stevie, “was a man called Stefan, and he has been my best friend for fifteen years.”  
  
Brian could feel Steve’s chest and belly clench under his hand, suppressing what Brian hoped it was a laugh. He wish Steve would laugh at her face, but the boy was just too nice.  
  
He expected her to be embarrassed out of her skull, but instead she just looked at him like he was an alien - she was probably trying to figure out if he was a dude or a chick. “And who are you?” She asked bluntly.   
  
“Oh shit,” Steve murmured. He didn’t have to know Brian for ten years to know the worst thing you could ever do was to get in the way of his ego. He stepped forward as Brian unlaced his chest.   
  
“Are you bullshitting me, girl?” he asked with a scoff, tilting his head to the side.  
  
“Nicole, this is Brian, remember I showed you our pictures?” Stevie hurried to say, holding her arm gently, standing in between her and Brian, just in case.  
  
She made a scrunched up face for a minute, and then she seemed enlightened, and then confused. “No - wait, is this the dude from your band?” She asked before bursting into laughter. “Dude, he’s old!”  
  
“Oh fuck,” said Stevie, putting his cup on the counter as Brian’s jaw literally dropped.  
  
“Ex _cuse me_?!” he yelped, his singer voice loud and clear. He jumped out of the stool, motioning towards her, “I’m gonna cut a bitch right fucking now.”  
  
The girl took a step back and Steve got in Brian’s way. “Don’t,” he said gently.   
  
“Oh yes I will,” he insisted, forcing himself onto Steve, half trying to pass, half trying to feel him up.  
  
“Brian, she’s just a girl,” Sunshine insisted as someone from the crew tried to lead her away.   
  
“Well, so am I!” Brian shouted. “Almost. And a hot one at that! - You come back here, I’ll show you old!” He forced himself onto Steve, but the kid - who was much bigger and stronger and goddamn hot - just held Brian by both his arms, firmly.   
  
“I won’t let you do this, she’s a girl.”  
  
Brian looked up at him - the throat up his white tight shirt, his blond hair, his button nose. “Well, Steven, enjoy your fucking party then,” he snarled before turning around and leaving the room.   
  
 _Old my ass_ , he thought over and over again as he rushed up the stairs, onto the unknown house, rage running through his veins.   
  
*

What the hell. What the actual fuck? Brian couldn’t handle it. It was so frustrating. It was so very much pathetic.   
  
He was sitting on the edge of a bathtub, inside a bathroom he randomly found in David’s house. The party was still going on down there. Of course, he had just been inside that bathroom for a few minutes, but it felt like hours. It was at least time enough for Brian’s mind to tangle up around itself and leave him so frustrated and angry and sad he felt like punching the mirror, in one of those drama llama cliché scenes you see in bad movies.   
  
That could be no good. Messing around with drummer: bad history. It could always be like Stefan, only it couldn’t. Brian knew that because he was already feeling it. He never got jealous of Stefan. In the (not so) old days, they would hump like rabbits all night, fall asleep in each other’s arms, and in the morning everything would still be normal. There was no tension. There was no gut twisting when Stef made out obscenely with other guys at clubs.   
  
He hadn’t even touched Stevie properly and he already felt so fucking mad at the boy for standing up for that girl. Mad at him for kissing her when Brian was right there, right fucking there with an arm protectively around him. He was jealous like he wouldn’t believe, and that, by all meanings, was not good at all.  _At all at all at all._  
  
He also felt guilty. He had written songs about how pathetic their old Steve was, and he’d bitch about how much of an asshole he was, suggesting that Forrest only made it to the band because of sexual favors. He had discarded that like it was the most ridiculous idea in the world, and then again, there he was, wondering of how he could have kissed him if that stupid girl hadn’t shown up.   
  
Where did Stevie even pick her up in the first place? Studying his parts, yeah right, Brian knew well what he had been doing late at night, the little brat, sleeping around and getting wasted like a seventeen year old.  
  
(But Brian actually knew that those were just lame false accusations his stupid mind was making up.)  
  
Maybe it was temporary, he thought. When Cody got a new bike, he wouldn’t let any of his friends ride it, or even touch it, because it was the best and most special bike in the world and it was all  _his_. Two weeks later, the bike was in the garage, never planning on leaving again.   
  
Brian almost prayed, wishing so hard it was just temporary.   
  
Only that if it was, if Stevie was just a new bike, Brian had to ride the life out of him before he stopped being fun. He knew that better than he wanted to.  
  
“I am doomed,” he said to the champagne tiles of the floor. “I’m in Shitland right now.”  
  
Right on cue, there were a few quick knocks and the door was set open, and Brian didn’t even have to look to know it was Stevie. “Hey,” the boy said with that deliciously soft voice of his. “Can I come in?”  
  
Sigh. “Yeah.”  
  
Steve walked in and closed the door silently behind him. He stood there for a few seconds, and when Brian looked at him, he saw the boy was shirtless, hands comfortably in his pants pockets.  
  
“She made you lose your clothes, huh?” Brian said bitterly, cynical. Stevie raised his eyebrows.   
  
“She threw a Bloody Mary at me, if it counts.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Steve giggled and leaned against the sink. “She got pissed. She took the drink right from David’s hand.”  
  
“Hm,” Brian pursed his lips. “And what did you do to piss her off?”  
  
The boy looked down to the floor, getting a bit flushed. “I told her you and Stef stood more chance of getting in my pants than her.”  
  
Brian’s dorky nasal laughter slowly filled up the bathroom, echoing in the tiled walls, and then fading slowly. “No shit,” he smiled.  
  
“Deep shit,” Steve answered, and Brian had a feeling the boy knew way more than he made it seem.   
  
“Well, then,” he chanted, standing up slowly. “I think you did want me to seduce you, after all.”  
  
Sunshine smiled and looked at Brian with his eyes only, his head still down, hair falling over his face. “I think I did.”  
  
Brian bit his lip. “I hereby declare that I am officially seducing you right now.”  
  
“Well,” Steve lifted up his head, too much, looking down at Brian in a way so sexy it was almost sinful. “No need for that, sir.”  
  
“Do I already have you?”  
  
And then Steve’s face was in the right angle, so he was staring straight and deeply into Brian. “Come and get it.”  
  
Brian kind of felt like screaming or laughing or jumping or all together. Instead, he paced slowly towards Steve, who took his hands out of his pockets and landed them on the sink. Brian walked until he had a leg between Steve’s, and he slowly let his hands take hold of the boy’s hips. He was just so firm and soft all over, and damn it, Brian didn’t remember how long had it been since he wanted something so badly.  
  
Steve’s left hand came up slowly. He let the back of his forefinger slide on Brian’s cheek, and then he gently cupped the man’s face, his fingers tingling their way inside Brian’s long, soft hair. He approached in a way as quiet as his voice, finally pressing his young lips to the mouth he’d been craving for since he was just the kid in the opening band.  
  
They didn’t kiss desperately like Brian thought it would be - like it had been before, with the Steve he loved before. Maybe it was that what he liked so much about Sunshine. He was always so peaceful, even when he was moving all his body while hitting his drums fiercely. He was peaceful, and Brian really could use some peace.  
  
But peaceful can still be hot - it was actually ridiculously hot, in that sensual slow way he only got with two or three people in his life, only after quite some time and a lot of intimacy. Steve had one hand holding the back of Brian’s neck and the other one on his waist, under his shirt, tracing swings on his skin and making shivers run up his spine.   
  
“Lemme taste you,” Brian mumbled against the boy’s lips, pulling back slightly. He nosed Stevie’s chin, opening way and allowing himself to lick a line from his collarbone up back to his mouth, where he bit gently before ducking down again. And this time he went lower.  
  
Brian had his hands on the boy’s shoulders as he started to descend, darting his tongue out, licking and sucking and nipping at the colors of his skin. And Steve made sounds, golden sounds, golden like he looked and golden like he tasted. Salty golden perfect sunshine, filling Brian’s mouth with warm magic, pouring himself onto Brian’s eager tongue, holding the man down against the cold marble of the sink, listening to his name being said then yelled then whispered, making the room steamy without the shower on.  
  
*  
  
  
It’s still ten in the morning when Steve hears someone knocking on his door. He was awake, though, once he wasn’t really hungover, he had just spent loads of time locked in a bathroom where there was no booze and a lot of Brian. So Steve got out of his bed and made his way to the door of his hotel room, and when he opened it, he saw Stefan.  
  
“Hi,” he smiled, “morning!”  
  
Stefan smiled back weekly, looking down at the boy just because he’s Stef and he’s tall like a freaking giraffe, only in a really sexy way. “Can I come in?”  
  
“Sure,” and Steve opened room for Stefan to pass, and then shut the door behind them. “What’s up?”  
  
“Uhm, I wanted to talk to you? You busy?”  
  
“Ah no, I was just watching a movie,” he said, going towards the bed. He grabbed the remote and put the TV on mute, leaving Satine looking like a fool with her mouth wide open and no song coming out of it. The bed had popcorn and Skittles and water bottles all over, so Steve just pushed them to the other edge of the bed and sat down, patting the bed so Stef would come sit with him, which he did. “So? Am I in trouble or something?”  
  
“Well,” he sighed. “That’s what I came to find out.” He gave Steve a look.  
  
“Oh. Oh, that.”   
  
“Yeah, that.” Stefan started swinging his foot nervously. “I don’t mean to pry, except I do. I have to, you know, for the sake of the whole band.”  
  
“Oh yeah dude, sure,” the boy answered easily. “I don’t think that’s gonna be any trouble,” he said, before letting his body fall back, lying on the bed.  
  
Stefan chuckled and lied down too. “You say that now.”  
  
Steve had an arm folded up, twitching a strand of is blond hair between his fingers. “People talk, you know. I know things got fucked up last time.”  
  
“Big time. I knew this was coming, though, I should have said something earlier.”  
  
For a few seconds, Stevie just stared at the ceiling. “Okay so you have to warn me about things, but before you say anything, can I just get my say in? Just so you know.”  
  
Well, it couldn’t harm, Stef thought, so he just said, “of course.”  
  
“You know when your parents behave in a way so goddamn annoying or ignorant and do stupid things, and you think to yourself you’ll never do it, because you learned from their mistakes?” He felt Stef nod, and continued. “Yeah. I got the point, you know. I know everyone thinks I’m all young and naïve and shit, and I know sometimes I behave like a thirteen year old, but seriously, I’m not stupid.”  
  
“I know that,” Stef said, because really, he never thought the kid was stupid. People sometimes thought Stef was stupid just because he doesn’t do most of the talking in interviews. But he did it because Brian always did pretty much all the talking. You just could not get the man to shut the hell up. “That’s not what I think. It’s just, Brian will always be Brian, and Brian is like a huge magnet for drama.”  
  
Steve smiled. “Yeah, I noticed. But I don’t have any intentions of making this sentimental and shit. I mean, I love Brian, he’s awesome, and so are you, and I don’t plan on ruining what we have. I think I got it covered, you know? So we had sex, we didn’t start a relationship. I’m still me. The drums boy.”  
  
Stefan turned his face to look fondly at Stevie. “You’re not just the drums boy.”  
  
“You get the point.”  
  
Sigh. “I do.”  
  
“So, you know, I think you don’t have to worry until you have to worry. I’ll always listen. I’ll listen now, by the way,” he smiled, “I interrupted you.”  
  
Stefan thought for a moment. “I don’t think I really need to warn you about anything. I can’t blame you, really. When Brian wants to get in somebody’s pants, he does it.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”  
  
Stevie laughed a little. “He does know what he’s doing,” he said in a low tone, remembering how amazing it felt having Brian’s mouth all warm and wet and perfect wrapped around him.   
  
“I hope you do, too.” They smiled at each other and Stef pulled Sunshine into his arms, staring at the television. “So, what are we watching?”  
  
*  
  
[PAST]  
  
Brian lit up his fifteenth cigarette of the night, pacing around the room so fast he was about to make a hole on the floor and fall the nine floors down to the hotel lobby. “This is unfuckingbelievable.”  
  
Stefan continued to tap on the guitar case he had on his lap, sitting on the couch. “Tell me about it. You know, we should just go already.”  
  
“And leave him all by himself in goddamn Tampa? For fuck’s sake, Stef, don’t bother making suggestions if they’re stupid like that.”  
  
“Oh, so now _I_  am the stupid one? Brian, shut up. He’s been pulling this crap on us for months, and you keep putting up with his fuckery.”  
  
Brian exhaled smoke to the ceiling. He took his hands to his head. “Where the fuck did he go this time, Jesus.”  
  
“He’s probably passed out in someone’s bed,” Stef said in an annoyed hiss. He saw Brian turn to him with eyes fueled with fury, caused by the idea that Steve had been sleeping with someone else. “Look, it doesn’t matter okay, we should be out of here hours ago. We won’t make it there in time, Brian.”  
  
“Well it’s a fucking festival, there are other bands to play there.”  
  
“They’re not us!”  
  
“They’re not him either!”  
  
“I - urrrgh. When did you become so retarded?” Stef exploded and stood up. “We should go and leave someone from the crew here.”  
  
“I’m not leaving without him.”  
  
Stef nodded quickly. “Fine. Fine then, stay there, waiting for the cheating husband to come home so you’ll iron his shirt and make him a cherry pie.”  
  
Brian gave him a death glare. “Stefan, go away, I swear to god.”  
  
“I’m already out.” He made his way to the door, but before he could reach the knob, the door was set open by Steve. “Oh, so nice of you to show up!” Stef snarled. “Asshole.” And then he left.  
  
“Where the fuck have you been?” Brian said angrily, throwing his cigarette away on the floor.   
  
“None of your business,” Steve shouted back, blinking his eyes dizzily.   
  
“Oh no, let me guess, were you at some whorehouse? Or a crackhouse, Steve, is that it? Who the hell do you think you are?”  
  
Steve raised his hands to his sides like he had done nothing wrong. “What the fuck, Brian, chill out.”  
  
Brian forced a mean laughter, ha ha ha. “Chill out. Chill out? You know what time is it? You know how late we are? We were supposed to have left fours fucking hours ago, Steve! You can’t just go get shitfaced and go MIA anytime you want!”  
  
“I think I can, Brian, you’re not my mother, shut the fuck up,” he said, sitting clumsily on the couch, sending Brian’s guitar case onto the floor.   
  
“I am so sick of this,” Brian confessed. He walked up to Steve and stopped in front of him, hands on his hips. “This is the last time. You hear me?  _Shut up_! We’re not putting up with your crap anymore! Next time, I’ll just leave you in the middle of fucking nowhere on your own.”  
  
“Why didn’t you?” Steve shouted. “I’m not asking you to stay, princess, just fuck off already!” His face was sweaty, flushed, pupils dilated like a black plate on his eyes. “Just go with your precious Stefan and leave me alone!”  
  
“We’re a band, Steven. We’re supposed to stick together, we’re a team!”  
  
“Well maybe I don’t wanna be a part of this bloody team, ever thought about that?” he hissed between his teeth.   
  
Brian just stared blankly at him for a second. “Maybe nobody else wants you in the team either,” he said, trying to hide his shock and disappointment.   
  
“Then go! What are you waiting for? Get the fuck outta my face, Brian!” He yelled in a way Brian was pretty sure people on the sidewalk could hear. Steve’s eyes were watering, but he stood up and turned his back to Brian, trying to hide it.  
  
After a minute of angry panting and feelings hitting thoughts, Brian said, “What about us?”  
  
“There is no us,” Steve said, walking into the bathroom. “Slutard.” He closed the door behind him.   
  
Brian stood still for yet another moment, all alone in the hotel room. He wiped the tears that ran down his angry-flushed face before walking out. He went to the bus, where everyone was waiting for him. “As soon as his contract is done,” Brian said, “he’s out of this band.”  
  
Everyone nodded silently, trying not to show relief. Brian went to his bunk and didn’t get out until they were in another city, another state, trying to make it through one of their last concerts together.   
  
[/PAST]  
  
*  
  
It was a sunny Sunday morning. Brian was on his way back to the hotel. He had gone out for a walk, his phone still in his hand from calling Helena and Cody. He entered the hotel and went for the elevators, but his eyes darted through the reception and his heart almost stopped. His limbs went a little weak, but the elevator doors opened and he jumped in before he could do anything else.  
  
“Are you alright, sir?” The operator asked, her face concerned. Brian had been talking to her everyday for the past weeks, once he was in that hotel since they started the recording process. “Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”  
  
Brian tried to offer her a weak smile. “Kind of. Have you seen my friends?”  
  
“Some of them went out,” she said.   
  
“Shit,” he panted. “Okay, thanks, Marie.”  
  
They remained silent the rest of the way. When the doors finally opened at his floor, Brian almost ran to his door, fumbling with the card for a few seconds and failing to open it. When he finally got it, he felt a hand on his back shoving him inside the room. “My oh my, look who’s here!” Came a voice way too familiar.  
  
“What do you want, Steve?” Brian asked, turning around to face him quickly.   
  
He shrugged. “I was in the neighborhood.”  
  
“Oh yeah, in freaking Canada. Steve, get out of my room, I’m calling security.”  
  
“Easy, mate!” He laughed loudly. Was he already drunk? Or still drunk, Brian wasn’t sure. “Just wanted to talk a bit, yeah?”  
  
“We have nothing to discuss,” Brian said bravely, though his stomach was turning around like a mortal rollercoaster. “Go away.”  
  
For a moment, Steve just looked at him. “You’re growing your hair again. Want to look young for your twink new boyfriend? Tsk, not working.”

  
“Stop behaving like a sociopath. Go away,” he insisted, but instead, Steve came even closer, trapping Brian against the corner of the wall. “Steve, I’m gonna scream for help, I swear.”  
  
“Go ahead. Call someone to stab me behind the back like you did,” he barked. “Do it, Brian. Let’s see if they’ll stop me from giving you what you deserve, you poisonous little snake.”  
  
“You chose to leave, Steven, we gave you a million chances and you walked away!” Brian tried to get out of there, but Steve would move and stop him from getting two feet away from the wall. Brian knew better than trying to wrestle him. 

 

“The news reached London,” Steve continued, his eyes dark and face red. “How fucking happy you are. How cute your new boy is. How the band is so much better without me, isn’t that what you’ve been saying? Huh?” - Brian didn’t answer, looking scared like a little girl, which pleased Steve. “Yeah, you never needed me anyway. You are so much better off without me. You keep trash talking me behind my back like isn’t enough what you did!”

 

“I didn’t do anything to you!” Brian dared to shout back, offering himself to get beaten up like a sand bag. “You are the one who started and ended it all! You’re the one who went all creepazoid on me and kept climbing up to my bed every night! You’re the one who started doing more chemicals than you could deal with! It’s not my fault that you’re a failure, get the fuck outta my room.”  
  
Steve got a grip of Brian’s shirt and shoved him against the wall, making his head hit the hard surface with a loud thud. Brian went completely dizzy as the pain floated down his spine, and suddenly he was being thrown on the bed. “You don’t get to say this, motherfucker,” Steve snarled as he made his way to the bed. Brian felt himself panic, wondering if he would be hit or raped or killed or whatever else. However, before Steve reached him, something grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

  
It was their other Steve. Their Stevie, their Sunshine, in his tight white shirt and his face purple in anger as he punched Hewitt down to the ground. Brian had never seen the line of his muscles under all the tattoos, but they became very clear as the boy held one arm up, locked in position to throw another punch - the other hand holding Hewitt’s neck down.

  
“If you try as much as laying one finger on him again, I’ll break your face in two.”  
  
Steve tried to laugh, but it wasn’t really possible with his cheekbone crushed and his throat tight under the boy’s grip. “You wouldn’t,” was all he managed to say.  
  
“ _Try me_.”   
  
“If you leave without a fuss,” said another voice from the door - Stef, with Nick by his side; “we won’t call the police.”  
  
Hewitt held on for a moment, finding it harder to breathe by the second. He eyed Sunshine with extreme hatred, his lips twitching, his eyes watering. “Fine,” he finally mouthed, unable to actually talk.  
  
Sunshine let go of his neck and stood up quickly, getting in between Hewitt and the bed, from where Brian watched the whole thing with wide eyes. Steve got up slowly, massaging his neck, and left the room in an angry embarrassed hurry.  
  
“Are you okay?” Stefan asked immediately to Brian as Nick locked the door. He went to the bed, where Brian sat up straight. “Did he hurt you?”  
  
“I’m fine,” Brian mumbled, looking at Sunshine.   
  
The boy sat on the bed, his elbows on his thighs, face hidden in his hands. He was shaking all over, and shuddered visibly in what Brian knew it was cue for crying. Brian crawled up to him, sat behind him, putting his legs by Stevie’s. He held the boy’s trembling body. “It’s okay. He’s gone, you sent him away.”  
  
Sunshine let himself be held and leaned his body back, making his face visible, nose red, tears leaking from his blue eyes. “Oh God,” he whispered weakly.  
  
Brian could feel the boy’s heart pumping fast through his chest. He lifted a hand to push Stevie’s hair out of his warm face. “It’s over. Thank you so much, you were so brave.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Stef said, kneeling in front of Steve, landing a hand on his knee. “He’s gone.”  
  
Stevie nodded quickly, laughing slightly and trying to wipe his face with his hands. “I know,” he whispered. “It was just scary, my body cries after this kind of situation.”  
  
“I guess you were the one to scare him shitless,” Nick said, a proud smile on his face. “Good job, kid.”  
  
Brian pressed his mouth against Sunshine’s shoulder, rocking back and forth to calm the poor thing down.   
  
  
*  
  
The circle of people held each other’s waist and shoulders firmly.   
  
“We’re here again,” Brian said, loudly, managing to be heard above the crowd ovation. “We’re here for the first time. We’re back fresh and new, taking the first step into a new journey. Our family has a long path to run, my loves, and this time, we’ll be better than we ever were.”  
  
The sound of innumerous voices chanted,  _Placebo, Placebo, Placebo._  
  
“I’m not ashamed to say that I’m scared,” Brian continued. “I’m scared out of my skull, but at the same time, I feel safer than ever. I know I have you, and you know we have each other. One for all and all for one. Let’s rock those motherfuckers’ brains out!”  
  
All the people in the circle screamed up to the sky, the adrenaline rush flowing through every single one’s veins. The lights went lower and colorful, and suddenly the choir was just a single celebration to the band that walked onto the stage, all of them ready to have the best time of their lives.

 


End file.
